


Christmas in Capulet

by Subtleillusionist201



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Holidays, Inspired by Music, Inspired by Poetry, Mild Language, Minor Violence, Poetry, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 09:51:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5535425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtleillusionist201/pseuds/Subtleillusionist201
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A devilish twist on a Holiday classic. Based off the poem, on Clement Clarke Moore's 1822 poem, "'Twas the night before Christmas" or otherwise known as "A Visit from St. Nicholas with inspiration from Run DMC's "Christmas in Hollis."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas in Capulet

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Christmas in Capulet](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/164456) by Eric Draven201. 



> I found this guy buried deep in my hard drive. Not my best imitation of rhyme and meter, but I felt it was share-worthy. Can also be found on Fanfiction.net.

Christmas in Capulet

'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through my dark flat  
Not a creature stirred, not even my stupid cat.  
We didn't have a chimney, but our stockings were hung,  
Right above the window were I heard carols being sung.

"Your singing is God-awful," I shouted, "I'm trying to sleep!"  
After my rant I did not hear a peep.  
I went to shower just as the water went out in our little slum.  
I pounded on the landlord's door, he screamed, "Pay your bills, you lazy bum!"

I pouted and sulked back to my hovel when I heard such a clatter,  
I poked my head out the window to see what was the matter.  
Was it the carolers… They are buffoons.  
I tore open the casement and readied my ice-cold water balloons.

I gazed out over the landscape of the new-fallen snow  
Looking for my targets below.  
Was it I that they undermined?  
I was instead surprised at what I did find.

It was a man, dressed in red with hair so white,  
He pulled out a pair of handguns and looked ready to fight.  
A nasty-looking monster charged him and was shot, covering the ground so slick.  
And at that point, I knew he was no St. Nick.

"Com'on now! Don'tcha got any fight left in ya?"  
He shouted, "How disappointing! Go on and cry back to ya ma."  
He blew another away and got his sword on the ready.  
"Hell! You're not even a challenge for Lady!"

"Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!  
On, Comet! On, Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen!"  
He named them as they turned to dust,  
Grinning madly with eyes filled with blood lust.

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,  
When the man jumped at least ten feet into the sky.  
So up high, past my window he flew,  
With a crimson coat full of murderous intentions, and his weapons too.

And then, with a tinkling, I heard something roll off the roof.  
If there were any brains in the monsters' heads, there was no proof.  
As they drew closer the ground went KABOOM!  
It must have been a grenade, I assume.

He flew through my window and into my apartment.  
Scared me so that out the door I wanted to sprint.  
He was dressed all in leather, from his head to his foot,  
And his clothes were all charred with ashes and soot.

He then said, "Whoo! What a ride!  
Can't have this much fun even if ya high!  
Guy, you may want to duck  
I'm a good shot but if you stay in the way, I doubt you'll have much luck."

He gripped a silver pistol in one hand and a black one in the other,  
He unleashed a loud volley that made me scream for my mother.  
More monsters were felled at his feet,  
My door was history and my landlord's angry face must by now be the color of a beet!

He squealed with glee and let out a laugh like Santa himself,  
And I was scared beyond reason that I nearly sh— pooped myself!  
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,  
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

The last demon died, he had finished his work,  
And he sheathed his sword and holstered his guns with a single jerk.  
"Hey, the name's Dante", he said, "What's yours?"  
"Enzo Ferino," I absently replied walking around this zone of war.

"Well, Enzo, If you ever see another demon, just give me a whistle."  
He tossed me a business card and took off from the window like a red missile.  
"Devil May Cry," I read to myself and soon he was out of sight,  
Then I heard his cocky voice say, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"


End file.
